


Pierced

by missmishka



Category: Marvel Ultimates, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Canon Gay Character, Canon Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmishka/pseuds/missmishka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He can think of only one other thing that might pierce the wall of his grief; another thing that only his friend can provide, but he knows the Wolverine will only fulfill one of his wishes and violence would win over intimacy."  Ultimate X-Men issue #46, expansion on the Colossus/Wolverine Danger Room fight sequence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pierced

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories, thoughts or circumstances embellished on a little more than the original format had done. Not for any profit.

Standing in the wreckage and ruin they’ve made of the simulation gives Piotr Rasputin no satisfaction or respite from his grief.

The animatronics lain to waste in the Danger Room aren’t the Sentinel that had killed Hank and nothing yet has worked to rid him of the image of his big blue friend lying lifeless beneath the rubble on those steps. 

The image of Beast caged in a coffin and lowered into the ground never to be seen again.  To never joke or play with again; talk to or fight beside.

His comrade should not have fallen in such a manner.

Piotr had not been ready for such a loss.

“Not bad, Russkie,” Wolverine thankfully interrupts his thoughts.  “Wanna try expert level?”

“No,” he answers slowly; breath calm, mind clear and hands clenching into fists.  “I want a real workout.  I want you to cut me.”

“Say what?”

He hears the warning in the two little words and beneath it hears the concern.

“You heard me, Logan,” he shifts the steel bulk of his body in preparation for actual battle.  “I want you to come at me with your claws.”

He can think of only one other thing that might pierce the wall of his grief; another thing that only his friend can provide, but he knows the Wolverine will only fulfill one of his wishes and violence would win over intimacy.

He hears the familiar snikt of those claws extending and feels a bitter smile twist his lips. 

His body has had several reactions to that sound since coming to know Logan as he did, but one was embarrassingly constant.  His dick has developed a Pavlovian response to the other man unsheathing his claws; it grew hard.  Usually because he got hard when he saw Logan fierce and fighting and that’s what tended to follow whenever the Wolverine showed his Adamantium claws.

It is not appropriate to have such a reaction at this time.

It will never be appropriate for him to harbor such want for his fellow X-Man.

“Don’t be dense, kid,” Wolverine is saying, the use of ‘kid’ likely intentional to emphasize how impossible Piotr’s wants were.  “I’ll poke through you like you’re a big dumb voodoo doll,” clearly Logan’s mind is still on his request to fight without anything held back while Colossus has gone on to think other thoughts.  “These things are made outta one hundred percent-”

_Adamantium_ , Piotr thinks with an inward sigh, concluding the familiar sentence while silencing Wolverine with a steel fist to the side of his face. 

The clang of metals impacting through the thin cover of skin over Logan’s cheekbone provides a small measure of satisfaction and he knows he is right to have made this request. 

His friend’s smaller form goes flying into a pile of mangled machines at the blow and he can feel the anger begin to boil in Logan’s blood.  Their time together on this team and in combat has shown him nearly all of Wolverine’s buttons and he’ll push every damned red one he knows until he gets the pain he seeks to distract from the grief.

“Have you gone blood simple, you-” Wolverine begins while wiping at the blood running from his nose.

“We have a word for men like you,” he ignores the words and keeps his focus intent to angering the beast inside the man. “Sobaka.”

The man responds as anticipated to being called a bitch in Piotr’s native tongue and he arches backward to move his stomach away from the worst of the swiping blow Logan hurls at him.  His uniform tears at the slicing claws and his organic steel skin sparks, but does not break at the blow.

He doesn’t attack or defend himself against the rage he’s evoked.  He takes and relishes the frenzied swipes of claw and slams of fist to his body.

Logan needs this outlet just as much as he does, if not more so.

When the anger starts to wane and he sees reason returning to slow the assault he rekindles the violence by calmly swatting aside a blow as if the wrath of Wolverine is as significant as a buzzing fly in his face.

His friend growls and swings again, but it lacks conviction.  So Piotr retaliates by sweeping a foot out behind Logan’s left knee and flicks a hand against the man’s shoulder to throw him off balance.

Wolverine doesn’t go down easily or alone.  His claws finally manage to pierce steel as they jab through Colossus’s forearm, dragging him forward to fall atop the other man in the rubble.

Piotr gets the pain he’d asked for and it really does hurt.

He tears his arm free of the blades just as Logan is retracting them in horror.

“What’d I tell you would happen?” the man growls as he grabs the wounded arm with his claws fully sheathed once more.  “How bad is it?”

He flexes his fingers while shifting from steel back to his regular skin and feels the protest of torn muscles.

“Missed the bones,” he groans at the gush of blood from the punctures in the meat of his forearm. 

Lucky for them both, he was a meaty kind of guy. 

If the Adamantium had severed bone he would have been out of commission for weeks healing and there was no guarantee the injury would have healed properly. 

“Let’s get you to the infirmary,” Logan pushes him off long enough to stand and bend to give him a hand up.

He ignores the hand and shifts to sit up with his head dropping forward.

“Not there,” he whispers, running his good hand through his hair and forcing himself not to think of the lab that had been Hank McCoy’s unofficial domain at the Institute.  “Anywhere but there.”

Logan’s proffered hand wavers, clenches briefly into a tight fist then extends once more to help him up.

“My room, then,” the man offers gruffly.  “I’ve likely got as much in there to patch you as the lab does.”

He doesn’t question that statement.  While Wolverine healed from injury and rarely needed bandages, others had a knack for getting hurt around him and Logan wasn’t overly fond of people dripping blood on his things.

Piotr accepts the aid in rising and tears off a strip of his shredded uniform to wrap tightly around his injury as they begin to walk from the training facility.

They move through the mansion without speaking; touching only when his steps falter from the bleeding and bruises he’d gotten, forcing Logan to prop him up with a shoulder under his arm to get them to their destination.

Once in the bedroom he settles on Logan’s king-sized bed to watch as the man moves around to gather supplies. 

“Perhaps this would be better suited for the bathroom,” he looks at the bedding the man slept beneath and abhors the thought of his blood staining these blankets. 

Such things haunt Logan no matter how he tries to pretend to be unaffected by the violence they lived with.  The man did not take the spilling of a comrade’s blood lightly and Piotr knows Wolverine is already blaming and beating himself up over the minor wounds. 

“And have you pass out and break something?” the man snorts as he deposits a collection of medical supplies on the bed next to Piotr. 

“I’ve suffered worse,” he retorts softly, giving reminder to the horrors of physical pain each of them have suffered in their pasts and still undoubtedly have awaiting them in the future.

Without another word Logan turns to get some towels from the bathroom and returns to spread the out over Piotr’s lap and the nearby bedding. 

Unlike Hank, whose hands had always been surprisingly gentle and caring despite their large size, Wolverine’s tending is about what one would expect from the rough and tumble man. 

Logan dumps a quick wash of saline followed immediately by peroxide and alcohol over the trio of tears through his arm; offering no warning or apology for the cleansing burn.  He scrubs away the blood and wetness of disinfectants with a towel when anyone else would have dabbed with some care to dry the cuts.

When the man’s blunt fingers pick up a needle from the supplies and he struggles the thread it for suturing the wounds Piotr thinks that the passing out thing might not be a bad idea no matter how it affected his manly reputation with his fellow X-Men.

He grits his teeth and looks away to suffer through it in silence as Logan finally succeeds at working thread through the eye of the needle to begin stitching the tears closed.

It takes several minutes for all six cuts; three entrance and three exit holes from the pierce of the claws, to receive their stitches.  When it’s done he flexes his fingers and arm to test the muscle and sutures.

A little blood wells out around the threads and Logan growls softly in warning for him to stop it before he messes up the work and pops a stitch.  He smiles inwardly at his ability to decipher the other man’s growls and he freezes as the unwanted thought of Logan having been buried today instead of Hank.

They all know how he feels about Wolverine, even if no one; especially Wolverine, ever said anything about it.  Aside from Jean using the information to bring Colossus back to the X-Men, no one has called him on it, but he can’t exactly be subtle about it at all times.

When the battles are as bad as their last one had been, Piotr can’t hide his concern for all the X-Men and Logan takes such risks when the team was attacked that it’s only natural for Piotr to worry about the man more than the others.  He could not help it that he also happened to _care_ more about Wolverine than he did the rest of the team. 

Maybe not _more_ , but certainly in a different, more intense way than he did the others.

He loves them all in ways he has not even given thought to until he saw one of his brothers taken from this life.

All he’s done since Hank died is think about what all of these people meant to him.

His teeth bite into the inside of his cheek as he watches Logan place bandages over the cuts and he wishes they were still fighting in the Danger Room. 

He needs this man tearing him apart, not trying to put him back together.

“I know,” Logan says and Piotr freezes, thinking he had spoken that last thought aloud.  “I know what you were trying to do, but - and you can trust me on this - mindless violence doesn’t take away this kind of hurt.  Beast got a raw deal,” the man moves to gather the medical supplies and return them to where he kept them.  “There’s nothing we can do to change that.”

“Da,” he braces his elbows on his knees and drops his head forward into his hands.  “This I know.  I just-”

“Can’t forget either, bub.  Hank deserves to be remembered by us all for what he did,” Logan interrupts, dropping heavily to sit on the bed beside him.  “Remembered for who he was.”

“I do not wish to forget either,” Piotr turns to look into his friend’s dark eyes.  “I just need…a different kind of pain than this,” he sighs and thuds a hand to his chest to indicate the hurt of loss in his heart.

“And you thought this was the answer?” Logan scorns and grips his bandaged forearm roughly to emphasize _this._

He doesn’t move to yank his arm away from the punishing grip, just stares at the big, strong hand curling around him.

“I’ll take what I can get,” he whispers as red begins to seep through the white gauze over his injuries.

“The last thing any of us need is more pain.”

Logan’s fingers unfurl slowly from their punishing grip before the man rises to pace the room. 

He seems to reach some conclusion after a few minutes, stops, sighs, looks at Colossus sitting slouched on the edge of his bed then he turns to walk into the bathroom.  He returns after a few moments of rustling audibly through the cupboards.  Piotr’s eyes follow him as the man moves to set a few items on the nightstand before he goes to shut and lock the bedroom door.

“Do you understand what you’re asking for when you look at me that way?” he asks it with his hand still on the doorknob and his back to Piotr.

“I cannot help how I look at you,” Colossus wishes it were different, but he cannot control such things. 

He has tried and failed each time.

“Not what I asked, bub.  Do you _understand_ what you’re asking me for when you look at me like _that_?” Logan turns from the door to find Piotr to have been staring helplessly at that broad, strong back.

“I know you would never-“

He begins to apologize but the words and thought are taken from him when Logan virtually flies across the room to put a hand over his mouth and thrust him back to lie on the bed.

“I’ve forgotten more life than you’ve ever lived; I seriously doubt there is anything that I have ‘never,’” he leans over him to growl, a timbre in the sound this time that Piotr has never heard before to try deciphering.  “I am asking if _you_ have ever been fucked.”

The memories; few pleasant; come to mind and show in his eyes, giving the answer his covered lips cannot.

“I’ve done all the hurting you today that I’m going to, kid,” Logan sighs, pulling the hand from his mouth and straightening.  “I’m no sadist to satisfy your masochistic urges.”

“It’s not…I’m not like that,” he rises to protest, not sure where this is coming from or going, but definitely not wanting anything like _that_ to come of it.

He paces in frustration as he tries to translate his suddenly rapid thoughts into a coherent sentence.

“I would take your hurt away if I could,” he finds himself saying as he ends up at the window, staring up at a starlit sky.  “I would find us both peace and a place away from this grief.”

“There is no peace for men like us.  No place away from grief when I’m the one causing it.”

“Hank’s death was not your fault,” Piotr turns with a frown to look at the other man.

“One in a million that wasn’t doesn’t wash away the stains of the ones I have killed or caused to fall.  All these hands know is hurt,” Logan sits on the bed with a sigh and stares down at his palms.  “It’s why I’ve never let them touch you like you think you want.”

“Not think,” he moves cautiously to sit beside the man.  “I know what I want.  But I would never do anything-“

The rest is lost as Logan once again covers his mouth, but this time he uses his own lips instead of a hand and Piotr is so surprised by the move that his body immediately reacts by converting to his protective steel form.

“Nifty trick,” Wolverine jumps back with a chuckle and shake of his head.  “Louder than a ‘No’ and harder to get through than a chastity belt.”

He gains control over his mutation and forces the metal back beneath the surface.

“What is this?” he looks the man in confusion.

“One blow too many from those hammers you call hands,” Logan jokes, whether the real jibe is aimed at himself or Piotr is unclear.  “Been a long day.  Go to bed.”

The tight customized material of the X-Uniforms conceals little of the male form and Piotr swallows as the other man lies back on the bed and the bulge of an erection becomes visible. 

“Whose bed?”

“Your own, you big ugly freak,” the words are typical Logan but there’s an exhaustion beneath them that pulls at him. 

“Logan,” he reaches out to touch to his fingers to the man’s knee. 

“Do you want this?” he finds the courage to utter the words, whispered as they are on the way past his lips.

His fingers skim up the skintight pants curling to caress the man’s heavily muscled thigh as he shifts to stretch out on the bed beside Logan’s sprawled form.

“Wanting’s all it is for me, kid,” Wolverine takes hold of his wrist to press his palm briefly against the bulge at the crotch of his pants before he sighs and gently removes Piotr’s hand.  “It’d be a mistake.”

He rolls from the bed and strides once more to the bathroom, peeling his shirt off as he goes.

“Go to your room, your bed and sleep, Pete,” he instructs as he tosses the shirt off toward a corner.  “We’ll laugh about this over a brewski tomorrow.”

The bathroom door clicks shut behind him, but there is no following snikt of the lock being turned to bar the entrance.

Piotr stares at the barrier, sighs and rolls to slide from the bed the same way Logan had.  As his feet hit the carpet his eyes go to the nightstand and he sees the items the other man had placed there; condoms and lubricant.

His body stirs with want at the act the items had obviously been intended for and he isn’t about to let them go to waste.

He’s never been an overly bold man despite his size, but this is a time to try something different.

For once, Logan has given him encouragement and if his only reason for withdrawing the offer is concern for Piotr then Piotr will show that there is nothing to be concerned about.

He grabs a condom from the collection and approaches the bathroom door slowly.  He hears the rush of water running and wonders if Logan has the faucets turned to hot or cold for his shower.  His hand curls around the knob and turns seek an answer to the question.

The lack of steam to create a misting blur over the clear plastic of the shower door tells him the water is likely ice cold. 

“You have no idea the things I have wanted to do to you in a shower,” he says it low and quiet, but knows Wolverine’s ears can hear him over the sound of water, just as they had likely heard him entering the room.

Logan’s body tenses beneath the spray and his hands pause in lathering soap over his chest.  After a moment his left hand goes to the faucet to adjust the temperature of the water before he turns to lean against the tiled wall to stare through the slick barrier between them.

“Showered with you often enough to have more than a few ideas bout what you wanna do, Pete,” he smirks as his hand drifts down to curl around his thick cock, leaving a trail of suds behind. "You ain't exactly subtle with the eyes, bub."

Said eyes twitch from the slow, seductive trickle of those bubbles over muscled torso to the thrust of that dick in Wolverine’s fist. 

He breathes deeply for calm, control and confidence as his own hands move to remove his boots and pants to join his comrade in that enclosure.  The barrier between them is starting to steam up now; obscuring the sight of Logan’s hand like some absurdly placed black box to censor the image from Colossus’s hungry eyes.

“What do you want?”

The gruff question freezes Piotr’s hand in midair as it reaches to slide the shower door open to join the other man in the stall.  Countless possible answers run through his mind from the crude and obvious to the sincere and secret.

“One good memory to take away from these dark days,” he answers with a simple honesty they can both accept.

Logan gives a nod in response to the words, his hand falling away from his dick to reach out and urge Piotr under the water with him. 

“Think I can manage that,” the man growls into his ear as the Russian steps into the stall and immerses himself in the cleansing wash of hot water.

Colossus lifts his injured arm, trying to keep the bandage dry and knowing it’s a lost cause as his wound is the last thing on his mind in this moment or those that will come.  Logan plucks the condom from his hand and maneuvers himself to press against Piotr’s back. 

They’ve stood like this countless times before, in various stages of undress before or after a mission or when simply hanging out around the mansion, but never fully nude. 

His eyes clench shut as his head drops forward to press against the slick tiles.  Piotr wants to see this; to feel and remember ever moment of it, but it all feels too much to be reality so he thinks if he keeps his eyes shut the fantasy won’t end.

He expects to hear the tear ad crinkle of the foil wrapper being removed for Logan to roll the condom on his length before he thrusts into Piotr’s hole.  Foreplay isn’t something he would imagine Wolverine taking time for in this kind of scenario.  No soft touches or tender words between men like them in this kind of moment.

But he forgets that his friend is more than the Wolverine; forgets those facets of personality that have drawn him so to this man.

Hands come to rest on his shoulders, familiar fingers digging hard and deep into the tense muscle.  Thumbs push into the tendons at the base of his neck and Logan shifts closer; his cock wedging itself into the cleft of Piotr’s ass as the man massages the knots of stress away.

A groan escapes him at the pleasure of so much of his comrade touching so much of him.  The wetness of the water sluicing over them both, the residue of soap still slick on Wolverine’s torso as it mashes against Colossus’s back. 

He wants…he wants so much.

He wants everything.

He tips his head back and shudders as the spray from the shower head is redirected to splatter over his chest and run seductively down over is groin.  Logan takes advantage of the new position to massage shampoo into his dark hair, scrubbing at Piotr’s scalp to get out the sweat they’d worked up in their Danger Room session.

The hands move downwards, spreading slick over his chest and stomach; he gasps in water when one hand curls around his cock, squeezing just right around the base and tickling upward to stroke over the tip.  He has only a moment to wonder where the other hand has gone before Logan leans away from his back and he finally hears the tear and crinkle of that condom wrapper.

A moment passes during which his mind provides the image of the man sheathing his dick with the latex in preparation to take him. 

It’s a lubricated condom, but that means next to nothing when it comes to anal sex.  Still it surprises him once more when Logan takes the time to apply something to actually lubricate him rather than just thrusting in.  Not so much that the man takes the time or care to try slicker him up more to ease the entry; the method through which Logan achieves the goal leaves Piotr reeling.

Dropping to his knees behind him, Wolverine uses both hands to spread the cheeks of Colussus’s ass apart for lips and tongue to press between and find the pucker of his asshole.  Piotr chokes out another mouthful of water along with a plea in his native tongue and Logan licks into him with the help of his thumbs tugging at the edges of his hole to ease his sphincter open. 

Once the spit has coated the entrance enough to loosen it a fraction a blunt fingertip joins the tongue inside him, stretching him open and digging in deeper.  He shifts his feet to widen his stance in askance for more and he gets a second finger for his silent urging.  Two fingers shove and flex inside him, pushing and scissoring to make room as the tongue withdraws and he begins to beg in broken English meshed with Russian. 

When he can think of no other version of “please” or “now” or “more” to utter, Logan finally returns to his feet to stand against Piotr’s back. 

It doesn’t go in easy or smooth as it would have with the use of actual lube, but it doesn’t matter because he finally has Logan thrusting inside him as he has wanted for so long. 

He cries out in pleasured shock at the penetration, no pain possible in this moment as he finally knows what it’s like to truly be pierced by Wolverine. 

The pain of Beast’s death is not forgotten; the loss not erased, but as Logan’s teeth bite at the muscle of his back while his fingers move to stroke over Piotr’s cock he is given the solace of distraction from everything outside this shower stall.

  **~Here endeth the scene~**


End file.
